


Leaky

by WhoopsOK



Series: Damp [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Play, Discussion of Wetting Play, M/M, Multi, Squick, Wetting, sexual age play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6521551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dean is the one that’s obsessed with the potty part and it’s twisting him up inside. He doesn’t need diapers, he really doesn’t… But he’d be lying if said he hadn’t thought, just briefly last night as he was drifting off, that Sam might make him wear diapers if he started “accidentally” wetting the bed."</p>
<p>(Dean talks about what happened when things got wet.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaky

**Author's Note:**

> Oh me, oh my, I really like this verse so I've made a series.

Dean is Big again the next day.

It feels like the change happens when he’s sleeping; like Sam snaps his fingers and the spell is over without Dean even knowing it. It is easier on him that way. Like being little is a dream – one he can go back to without fear, but for now, he is awake from it. He likes to think of it this way; it’s an easy slide into little mode and a soft click back out. The process of getting his land legs back takes a while, but he’s used to forcing himself to walk on unsteady legs. A cup of joe and pancakes, that he makes for them all, and he feels righter with the adult world. He’s coming back into himself.

The conversation teeters carefully clear of Little Day over breakfast. Castiel is still acclimating to his everyday mindset and talking about it so soon might throw off his balance. He’s moving slow and speaking almost only when spoken to, so Sam and Dean both know he’s coming up from somewhere particularly deep. The drop is harder on Castiel, Dean feels. He already knows that it’s difficult stepping back from hunter, into man, and then from man into child; he is accustomed to forgetting himself, but even this takes something different out of him. He can’t imagine what it’s like for Castiel to filter his existence from an _angel,_ a celestial being thousands of years old, to a near-mute baby. The falling is always easier than the climbing back up and so they are soft with him, until he starts to speak normally and vocalize when he doesn’t understand something. Dean keeps their knees pressed together under the table and doesn’t miss the way Sam keeps nudging Cas to eat.

Sam still acts a bit paternalistic the mornings after Little Day, but he is in sync with his boys. When Dean feels right enough to start ribbing him about it, Sam feels right enough to curse him out while Castiel laughs at their theatrics. That transitions them into the rest of their day. There is a ritual to this.

Sam breaks the ritual when he asks softly, “So are we going to talk about this?”

The memory of the diaper and all that came – literally – with it, makes Dean’s face ruddy. He bites his lip, picking up all their plates. He starts to say something smart, but he finds that his breath – even before he speaks – has gotten shivery. The plates clatter in the sink as he starts the water, washing them off.

“Dean,” Sam’s tone isn’t stern. It would be easy for Dean to snap at him, tell him to knock it off, talk to him like he’s an adult if it gets stern. He is just the right kind of firm that it would fit into either of Sam’s personas and, as such, grabs ahold of both of Dean’s.

Dean turns to him, face pinched. “Do we have to do this now?” he says, going for exasperated and coming off tense and whiny.

“No,” Sam answers immediately, “but you know we probably should.”

The look they share is one that is indicative of years of wordless communication, Sam asking and Dean feeling the need to give in like a twist in the gut. It only intensifies when he turns to find Castiel looking at him the exact same way. It hasn’t been nearly as long for him and Castiel, especially not in a romantic context, but Dean knows what it feels like to be known to the soul. Castiel moves him, differently than Sam does, but just as intensely.

He averts his gaze, looking instead down at his white knuckles where they grip the sink. “…’s just hard,” he mutters. And he’s so serious about it, he doesn’t even tag on _no pun intended._ He glances up when Sam’s chair scrapes across the floor, but his eyes only make it far enough over to catch Sam’s shoulder in his peripherals.

Sam speaks lowly, intimately as he steps up behind Dean. “I could ask you things and you could just answer for me?” he offers.

Dean can only nod silently. He forces himself to relax when Sam’s chest presses against his back.

“Would it be easier if I took you back Down first?” Sam asks, reaching around and gripping both Dean’s wrists gently.

A shudder runs through Dean, the tight ring around his wrists making him feel the beginnings of just the right kind of weakness. “Yeah, but…” he hesitates, half turning to the side, searching.

Castiel slides into view right on cue, eyes, while not remorseful, quietly apologetic. He knows Dean doesn’t like going under without him, having the stability of a bottom and a top so to speak, but isn’t going back down just yet. Such a quick turnaround can only happen organically, a fall not a jump; otherwise, it could really upset him. Nevertheless, he smiles tenderly at Dean, putting a finger to his lips. He is more than willing to stay. He is more than willing to stay close and warm and soft.

“But just a little bit,” Dean answers finally, drawing in a long breath when Sam kisses his ear.

“I only need a little bit,” Sam mumbles, “because you’re such a good boy for me.”

Dean’s eyes slide shut and he lets out a shaky sigh. Sam turns him around so Dean’s face is hidden against Sam’s neck, both his arms closing protectively around his head. The world goes muffled and dim and Dean allows himself to list into this, the doorway to the world Sam’s built for them nestled right in his arms.

“You and Cassie are the light of my world, you know that?” he says, swaying gently, the steps he takes so small Dean hardly notices they’re moving. “You’re so good for me, my little boys. I want to do everything in the whole world to make you feel good, you know that?” he says, dropping his head so he’s speaking into the space between his arm and Dean’s ear. “I want you to feel _so_ good because you _deserve_ it.”

Dean whimpers, the arms that had been hanging at his sides abruptly coming to close around his brother, his _Big_. “Sammy…”

“My littles deserve to be the happiest boys in the whole world,” he looks up to where Castiel is tiptoeing along behind them, sharing a smile. “My baby Cassie and… Hmm,” he feigns confusion, speaking against Dean’s hair. “Who’s my big boy again?”

Dean has to smile a little, aware enough to be a bit embarrassed, but too pleased to care. “Dee?”

“What? I couldn’t understand you, who’s Lee?”

“ _Dee!_ ” Dean giggles freely, pulling away to smile right in Sam’s face. “ _I’m_ Sammy’s big boy, _me_.”

Sam chuckles, ruffling his hair. “Yes, you are.” He pecks Dean quickly on the mouth. “And you’re so good for me, it makes me very happy.”

“I like making Sammy happy,” Dean admits softly, toying nervously with the end of Sam’s shirt.

“Oh?” Sam says, “Then, you wanna be a big kid and help me with something?”

Dean’s eagerness to please Sam is visible in every line of his body. “Anything,” he begs. He doesn’t hesitate a moment when Sam leads them over to the couch. He’s tugged backwards so he’s draped across Sam’s lap, looking up into Sam’s face. He laughs when Castiel curls up at the end of the couch, his thighs against Dean’s feet so Dean knows he’s there.

“I want my big boy to feel good,” Sam is saying, “and I feel like something happened last time you were little that made you feel really, _really_ good. Is that right?”

Though the memory of Castiel’s diaper – full of Sam’s piss and Castiel’s _come_ , press snug and wet and warm against his dicky – makes his stomach flip with something nervous and uncomfortable, Dean will not lie to his Sammy.

Dean nods, but quickly curls up on his side, face against Sam’s stomach. Though it’s normally a habit he feels is too young for him, he puts the edge of Sam’s shirt in his mouth, mouthing nervously, the rub of the fabric soothing against his tongue.

“Can you tell me about it?” Sam asks, petting his hair softly.

Dean shakes his head, closes his eyes, shame riding hot on his cheeks.

“Why not, sweetheart?”

His breath comes up a little short, a familiar prickling starting in his eyes. He refuses to turn Sam’s shirt loose, even as he mumbles, “It felt yucky.”

Sam runs his finger along Dean’s lip, tracing up to the tension in his jaw with a furrowed brow. “What made you feel yucky?”

Though the answer comes to Dean instantly, it takes him a moment to force it out. “That I only got hard after I accidently made baby feel bad…” He opens his eyes, looking down to where his feet are pressed against Castiel’s thigh. He flexes and Castiel grabs his ankle comfortingly. “I don’t want my Cassie to feel bad,” Dean whispers, miserably.

Sam doesn’t stop where he’s calmly stroking Dean’s face. “Is Cassie feeling bad what made you feel good?” He startles when Dean suddenly shoots up out of his lap, distressed to the point of tears as he looks between them

“No!!” Dean shouts, his heart jumping up into his throat. There was something about the accident, yes, but Dean would never touch that part of himself again if it hurt Castiel. It makes him feel like throwing up that the idea even came up. “No, no, no!! I didn’t mean to— _mmph!_ ” his frantic rant is only cut off when Sam leans forward and kisses him.

“Shh, shh, calm down, honey,” he whispers between kisses, holding Dean’s face. “I’m sorry I asked like that, I wasn’t implying you were trying to make him feel bad, ok? I’m sorry.”

Dean is still breathing a little hard, but he nods, feeling silly for getting worked up so quickly.

Sam kisses him once more before pushing him back down into his lap, this time, letting his forehead press against Sam’s stomach immediately. Castiel’s hand finds its way back to his foot. “I _mean_ to say, if Cassie feeling bad made you feel yucky, what happened _after_ that made you feel good?” When Dean just fidgets silently, Sam hazards a very well informed 90%-sure-I’m-right guess, “Was it the diaper?” The way Dean’s face warms and turns into Sam’s hip is confirmation enough.

“Big boys don’t need diapers,” Dean mumbles. It’s true; before Sam made him put on Castiel’s wet diaper – before Sam _pissed on him_ – Dean had never once thought about wearing a diaper. He knows Castiel likes it; partly for the feeling, but mostly for the aesthetic. It is hard to forget how little _little_ Cassie is when he’s sitting in pampers with his thumb in his mouth. Dean thinks that’s more important to Castiel than having the ability to not think about going potty like a big boy.

Dean is the one that’s obsessed with the potty part and it’s twisting him up inside. He doesn’t need diapers, he really doesn’t… But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought, just briefly last night as he was drifting off, that Sam might make him wear diapers if he started “accidentally” wetting the bed. The thought comes back to him now – laying there, sleepy and warm, and just _soaking_ the sheets, laying in a puddle of his own piss. It’d made his dicky twitch last night, but now, in the light, under Sam’s gaze it just makes him feel ashamed. Sam doesn’t want a nasty little boy like Dean, who thinks about such filthy things and gets hard. He’s such a bad boy, Sammy is going to hate him for being such a bad little—

He almost fights it when Sam makes him turn his head around to look up at him.

Sam doesn’t look judgmental or disgusted, his face straddling the line between concerned and bemused. He wipes the tears gathering at the corner of Dean’s eye. “But you liked it?” he asks, then when Dean stares up at him, fearful and silent, his lips quirk down. “It’s ok if you did, I just want to know, buddy…” he says soothingly, “You’re not going to get in trouble. No matter what you say, Cas and I are still going to love you very much.”

Dean’s shaking now, but he stares up in to Sam’s eyes and knows he’s being told the truth. His words, however, still come out stuttered and soft. “Yeah, but… ‘cuz it was wet,” he can feel himself breathing harder as he recalls the feeling. The memory of the damp feel of the cloth against his hard dick has him aching and he bites his lip guiltily, ignoring it. “I know it was because I was getting a punishment, but… it was warm and soft and then…” he draws in a breath, clenching his thighs together. “Then Sammy’s pee was so hot, I’m sorr— _ah_.” Dean whines when Sam’s hand traces down to press his thighs back open

“Shh, don’t apologize,” Sam rumbles, his hand closing over Dean’s not-quite-hard dick. “You’re doing just fine. Keep talking, buddy.”

Staying coherent while Sam’s hand was on him was generally hard enough, but Sam wasn’t giving him much right then, just holding him loosely. Dean knows the score, though; this is a game they’ve played before. If Dean keeps talking, keeps being a good boy, Sam’s hand will get a little more creative.

Dean swallows, tensing to keep from shifting his hips. Looking Sam in the eyes as he speaks is enough to make him feel like he might catch fire from embarrassment and arousal. “Sammy’s pee was _so hot_ ,” he babbles breathlessly, “and it was all over my feel good places and so was baby’s. And then I made Cassie feel good with my mouth and his cummies were down there too. It was all slidy and wet and I wanted to be good for you, but—” his hips grind up as if the memory of disobedience is enough to encourage a reenactment. Sam, however, does not admonish or stop him, “but I couldn’t stop _moving_. And… I started going _down_.”

“Down?” Sam repeats, “Like down into little space?”

Dean nods his head slightly. “But further, like… like big Dean wasn’t even real.” His eyes go far away; Sam would almost think the look on his face is haunted, if not for the way his dick throbs under his palm when he whines, “And then the _smell_.”

“Of pee?”

Dean nods. “It was my Sammy’s and my Cassie’s pee, though. So-so it was warm and soft and warm and soft means _good_ ,” his breath comes up short and he reaches a hand down to cover where Sam has slowly started stroking him. “And it was on my dicky and my legs and I could smell it all around me like… like you were both still there. And then…” he hesitates, fingers flexing around Sam’s hand (who resolutely does not change his pace) the other hand coming up to worry at his lip.

“Then what happened, Dee?” Sam prompts.

Dean’s throat works as he swallows before speaking from behind his fingers. “I squished it.”

“You squished the diaper?”

“Uh huh,” Dean’s fingers are toying with sliding fully into his mouth, making his words come out mumbled, but he can’t stop. He wants the comfort, wants the familiar feel of sucking. “I was mashin’ it on myself and it fel’ _real_ good and I…” Dean turns to see where Castiel is staring at him, eyes wide and flushed and maybe having slipped a little lower than he thought he was going to go. “I started thinking about Cassie.”

Sam rewards his honesty with a rough drag all the way from Dean’s balls up his shaft, making him whimper. “Thinking what about him?”

“How it looked…” Dean says without taking his eyes off Castiel, “when he first had his hand holding his dicky and his pee was coming out. I felt bad but…” his breath hiccups and Castiel’s mouth opens slightly, wanting. “Then I thought… It must’a felt _so_ good to finally let go. His pee would’ve been so hot… I wanted…” he starts squirming, his foot pressing hard against Castiel’s thigh as he tries to leverage his hips up to get more friction. “ _Please_ …”

“What did you want?” Sam’s voice is getting rough and Castiel’s eyes are blown. Dean feels like the center of the universe with their eyes on him; they’re his, his big and his baby, they’re both _his_.

“I wanted to ask him if he’d do it again. For me. _On_ me,” he realizes Castiel’s grip on his ankle is nearly bruising him, holding on as if Dean is essential to his wellbeing. “I thought about him not wearing a nappy and not remembering to go potty before we took a nap. “That he would peepee and make me all hot and wet. I wanted it everywhere, I wanted it all over me, I— _aah!_ ” Sam’s next stroke tingles down to his toes and he cries out. “ _Ngh,_ Sammy!”

“I got you, Dee, you’re ok,” Sam says, petting Dean’s hair with his other hand. “What did you do next?”

Dean is having trouble breathing. “I made cummies and it was so good, I…” he struggles to find the words, “I went away.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was like…” Dean has to shut his eyes, the memory of the feeling washing over him suddenly. The peace of feeling like there was nothing at all. “It was all just _gone_ , it was just… I couldn’t see and it was all so floaty and nice, it… It was like I didn’t even have my body no more, that’s why I…” he covers his face, embarrassed, “I didn’t mean to pee myself, honest.”

“ _Oh…_ ”

At the sound of the broken moan, Dean’s eyes fly open to see Castiel stopped just short of climbing over him, shocked at himself. The arousal he feels – visible in the flush on his cheeks, in the part of his lips – has the hand he reached out towards Dean trembling where it hovers between them. He looks young and unsure of himself, a shaky innocence shining through the lust of his gaze.

“Cassie?” Sam asks to be sure and when Castiel nods his head, he motions him forward. “You wanna take a binky this time?”

Castiel’s breath is coming in needy pants and he grabs Dean’s pants with both hands, whimpering at him in question. Dean nods wildly.

“Ok, baby,” Sam says, helping Castiel rid Dean of his bottoms, “It’s all for you, he’s all yours.” His hand lands in Castiel’s hair, gentle and guiding, as Castiel shuts his eyes and gets between Dean’s legs. Resting his cheek against Dean’s thigh, he takes Dean’s dick into his mouth with a small moan.

He always gives slow suckies when he’s little, like dicks are really just pacifiers for the pleasure of his mouth and not for the pleasure of whoever’s dick it was he was sucking.

That doesn’t keep Dean’s eyes from rolling back into his head at the warm wetness of Castiel’s tongue stroking his aching cock. “Cassie!” he shouts, clutching at Castiel’s shoulder.

“You know,” Sam says almost absently, a gentle hand on both their heads, “we can talk about this, Dee.” He smiles when Dean looks up at him, eyes bright with arousal and, now, shock. “You’re not bad or dirty for liking what you do.”

Tears fill Dean’s eyes, the veil of shame lifted just by Sam’s words. “Sammy…” he turns his face into Sam’s palm and grabs his wrist when Sam messes with the side of his eye, making his tears fall. “ _Oh_ ,” he breathes when Castiel’s hand comes up to hold his balls, almost petting them like they are some kind of toy. Pleasure is sparking up and down his spine as Castiel tongues around his tip, “ _Cassie…_ ”

“It was meant to be a punishment, but I’m not mad that you liked it,” Sam promised. “Sometimes that happens and I like knowing things that make you feel good,” he says, then tips his head back with a considering hum. “Maybe I could put you in diapers at night?” he mused teasingly, “Even big boys wet the bed sometimes…”

The image of waking up with morning wood and a soggy diaper to jerk it into has his cock throbbing in Castiel’s mouth, causing them both to moan. “Sammy!”

“And then maybe I won’t change you right away,” Sam says, his feigned disinterest, the analytical way he was thinking about getting Dean off making Dean’s balls tight. “Maybe you’ll have to lay in it, just like that. Maybe I’ll let Cassie use it like a potty, would you like that? To be our potty?”

“Oh, _please_!” Dean begs, sobbing in earnest. He was _so_ close, but he never wanted Sammy to stop talking. He wanted to hear all the dirty things Sam could come up with, he wanted all of it.

“Or maybe, I won’t even use the diaper,” Sam says, and there is a catch in his voice then, his thoughts finally affecting him. Dean feels like he can’t even draw in a breath as Sam starts to speak. “How would you like it if I peed right on your jammies? Or in your hair? Made you suck our dicks after and didn’t even clean you up? Just had you walk around the bunker smelling like us, covered in cummies and pee like some filthy little—”

Dean wails as he comes, gripping Sam’s wrist and Castiel’s shoulder, his back locked in a bow. Sam’s hand has slid from Castiel’s hair to Dean’s hip, pressing down to keep him from bucking wildly into Castiel’s mouth where he’s still leisurely sucking the cummies out of his dick. When Dean’s vision finally clears enough that he sees this – the fucked out look on Castiel’s face and his _come_ dribbling down Castiel’s chin – something in him comes unglued. Sam takes his hands off him and Dean is flying forward.

“Please, _please_.” He kisses Castiel’s mouth clean as he pushes him onto his back, fumbling for the waist of his pants. The urge to get his mouth on Castiel and make him feel good is nearly _heart stopping._ “I want it, I want—” his eyes go wide when he gets Castiel’s pants down only to find the front of his underwear already soaked with come. They stare at each other, Dean as stunned as Castiel is embarrassed; neither able to think of a single thing to say, both wishing they could get hard again _right this second_.

“Well!” Sam’s laugh draws their attention, his smile is as bright as it is mischievous. “I guess we have a new game to play, boys.”

It should go without saying that they can hardly wait to get started.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading… do something that makes you feel lovely today


End file.
